A Lesson for the Teacher
by RedEyedWarrior
Summary: Noah sees his history teacher outside of school while working at a shop. Stuff happens and Noah can never look at his teacher in the same way again. Let's just say that the teachers and students are not so different after all.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I claim no ownership of or stake in the franchise.**

* * *

Noah was sitting behind the counter in the local grocery shop in his town. His nose was inside a history copybook. Although Noah should actually be working, it was a Sunday, and few customers show up at the shop on Sundays, so the shopkeeper allows Noah to study when there are no customers in the shop during his shift. Besides, there was a history exam the following day, and Noah wanted to go over his notes again to make sure he'd get at an A in the exam. Not that Noah had plans for a career related to history, or that he had helicopter parents; he just wanted to piss his overachieving older brother, who never got an A in history, off.

Anyway, Noah was browsing through his notes with the usual bored expression on his face when the door opened. Noah shoved his copy aside and stood up to be seen in case the customer needed him. That was when Noah realised who the customer was. To his surprise, it was none other than his history teacher himself, Mr Hatchet. Hatchet was a drill sergeant nasty. No student in Mr Hatchet's history class could get away with getting anything less than a C- without having to write out the correct answers for the ones they got wrong three to ten times unless they had a learning difficulty. And woe betide any student whose phone went off in class, who was talking in class when silence was commanded or who failed to turn in homework or projects before the deadline. This did not bother Noah because despite his laziness he was the quiet one out of a class full of messers and stuff about the World Wars, the Cold War and the decolonisation movements were all common sense as far as Noah was concerned. However, Noah also had Mr Hatchet for gym class… you can figure the rest out yourself.

Anyway, after looking around the store, Mr Hatchet went up to the counter. "Excuse me, sir, do you have any lube?" he asked. That was when Hatchet realised that standing before him was one of his top students (in his history class… obviously not the other class). The teacher started to look uncomfortable. There was a faint hint of red appearing on his brown cheeks. "Shit, you're one of my students, aren't cha?" he mumbled.

"That would be correct," Noah replied, sensing the discomfort coming from his teacher/customer. "What flavour would you like?" he asked.

"W-w-whatever's the ch-cheapest," Hatchet stammered. Noah shrugged and unlocked the cabinet that contained the lubes which was next to the cigarette cabinet.

"That would be the cinnamon-scented one, C$8,95," Noah told Hatchet. Hatchet, unable to let any word out of his mouth, handed Noah the money and Noah gave him the lube and the change. Mr Hatchet left the shop as swiftly as deer would after seeing a human. Noah managed to get back to studying after a few minutes of trying to comprehend what the fuck's just happened. An hour went by and his shift was over.

* * *

The next day, Noah was having lunch with his friends, Cody and Eva, and some of their classmates. History class was the first class they had after lunch, and the table they were sitting at was filled with panic and dread. Everyone sitting at that table had Mr Hatchet next and only half of them were confident that they will not be getting a write-out for not studying. The fact that Harold was sitting at the table did not help to ease the tension.

"You guys are such idiots!" Harold glared at everyone. "OBVIOUSLY Hitler was an anti-Semitist because his first lover was Jewish and they did not break up under Hitler's terms! GOSH!"

"And this is relevant to the exam _how_?" Noah raised an eyebrow.

"One of the questions on the exam paper is going to be on the Holocaust," Harold replied, folding his arms. "You're such an idiot, Noah. It's quite obvious that I'll be getting an A+ while the rest of you guys will be getting an F- for being idiots like Noah."

Eva held a fist threateningly towards Harold. "Ya wanna bet, wise guy?" she hissed.

"What's the point in betting?" Harold stated 'matter-of-factly'. "It's clearly obvious that I'm right and you're all wrong. Curse your stupidity for being too much of an idiot to realise what an idiot you are! GOSH!" Eva punched Harold in the face. The lanky teen fell over and fell into a state of unconscious. The bell rang.

"Well, here it goes," Cody shrugs, as they all got up and headed towards the history classroom. But when they got there, the door was locked. Noah and his classmates used it as an opportunity to do some last-minute study for the exam. Words could not describe how relieved many of those pupils were.

Ten minutes later, Mr Josh, the English teacher, walked out of the classroom. Noticing the bewildered looks coming from the students, Mr Josh said: "We were discussing next year's teaching plan. Now get to class!" The pupils thought nothing of it, however. They got extra time for study; why would they be pissed about the delay? So as they shuffled into the class, they were met with an odour of cinnamon. When Brick asked what was with the aroma, Mr Hatchet said he just "lit a candle this morning" and left it at that.

The realisation hit Noah like a train. As Mr Hatchet was passing off the exam papers with a bow-legged shuffle, it occurred to the bookworm that the odour was the exact same scent as the lube Hatchet bought from Noah the previous night. The red-faced glare that read "keep yer mouth shut!" Hatchet gave Noah as he handed the latter his exam sheet only confirmed Noah's suspicions. Noah couldn't help but smirk. He was even mentally wrestling the urges to laugh his shit. Still, he was unable to prevent himself from snickering to himself under his breath, but Mr Hatchet noticed this from the bookworm shaking. "Noah Masood, do you have anything to share with the class?" he gruffly asked the bookworm.

Noah looked up from his desk to see his teacher giving him the dirtiest look. "Do you really want me to share anything, sir?" The whole class was taken aback by this. Let's face it, you'd have to be a complete dumbass to talk back to Hatchet, even the biggest messers in the class new that. Fuck it, this was _Noah_ for crying out loud! Even Eva was having the goosebumps. Mr Hatchet blushed and nervously gave Noah the 'I'm watching you!' gesture and went back to his desk. That was it. No yelling. No write-out. No trip to the principal's office. Just a warning gesture. And a nervously-executed one at that, no less.

The following Friday the class got their results back. Noah was marked 100% despite having a few incorrect answers and statements (though he was still within A- territory anyway). The only other student who received a questionable score was Harold, who failed the exam. He was knocked out at the end of the lunch break prior to the exam, but he regained consciousness a minute or two before the exam started. Harold called Mr Hatchet an idiot and ended up receiving three Saturday detentions.

* * *

**I've been lurking around Reddit for almost a year and I came across a post where teachers reveal facts about being a teacher students and parents generally don't realise. But one of the most obvious ones is that they are just like their students with the drama, cliques and - you guessed it! - relationships. So I got to work and this is the result. I hope you liked it!  
**

**Until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I was initially planning on making this a one-shot, but because of the reception of the first chapter, I'm going to add a few more chapters. You've asked for it!**

* * *

Noah was chatting with Eva and Cody on the bus. They were talking about their weekend and all the other usual stuff they gab about. So in essence, it was a very mundane scene that nobody from the outside world would give a shit about. Until Cody decided to bring up a new topic.

"Anyway, enough about us, let's talk about Mr Hatchet," Cody smiled. He had a cheeky grin on his face.

"Yeah," Eva agreed, "I've noticed he's been acting weird all last week. What's up with that?" She and Cody turned to Noah. Noah blinked.

"What?" Noah asked.

"You talked back to him at the history class last Monday," Eva reminded Noah. "And you got away with it. He's been acting weird since. Especially around you."

"Weird, huh, I didn't notice," Noah smirked.

"C'mon Noah," Cody urged the bookworm, "we have him for history every day except Wednesdays, and we have him for gym class on Wednesdays."

"I get it; we have to deal with him every day of the week," Noah rolled his eyes. "And you're probably pissed because he hasn't given me any shit for my pathetic performance at gym class but you got chewed out despite not being as bad as I was. Complain to him; not me."

"I'm not pissed," Cody insisted. He hesitated for a moment. "Okay, maybe I **was** pissed. But that's beside the point. Normally he's tougher on you than he was on me; but last time he just didn't give a shit about how bad you were at doing squats and running laps. It was strange. Plus, every history class he has us all put our books away and quizzes us on what we were asked to revise. He never asked you any question, yet you got asked every time before."

Noah rubbed his chin. Cody was right. Mr Hatchet was notorious for being extremely tough on his students. History class, you'd get quizzed on whether you know your stuff and if you don't know your answer on the spot, you can expect to write out a page or two from the textbook two to five times. Physical education class, you'd be harangued into running around the perimeter of the gymnasium, climbing ropes, jumping over obstacles you were forced to help set up earlier, doing push ups ranging between twenty or fifty, sit-ups, squats, lifting weights, participating in dodgeball, hockey or football, and so on. There were no exceptions in Hatchet's gym class. If you had a heart condition or were on crutches, he'd give you something else to do that wouldn't make your situation worse but was still just as physically or mentally challenging. Last week, Hatchet skipped over Noah every history class. In fairness, many students were skipped over in class due to time constraints, unless there was a whole class devoted to quizzing, but Noah was always quizzed. He always knew his shit. As for PE, Hatchet looked the other way at Noah's performance. Noah noticed this and it eventually got to a point where he was not even bothering to pull his arse and got off scott-free. And then there's the results of the history exam from the previous Monday afternoon.

That was when Noah realised what was going on. The perfect score on the exam, no punishment for his laziness in PE or for talking back to the teacher last Monday, never getting quizzed on his history and the smell of cinnamon coming from Hatchet that lasted about two days. It all added up! Mr Hatchet, a teacher feared by half the students at Noah's school (and even a couple of the teachers and countless helicopter and soccer parents), was afraid of Noah. He suspects Noah knows something about him that he doesn't want the school to know. Noah looked at Eva and Cody, his two best friends. They were all eager to know.

The bookworm shrugged. "I have no clue," he replied. "I suppose he's probably caught on to the fact that sports and athletics aren't my thing, and that he's skipping over me so he could focus more on the lazy pupils in our history class. Frankly, I don't give a shit. You don't like him. I don't like him. Let's talk about something else." Cody and Eva shrugged and they went on to talking about the latest movies they've seen.

This wasn't entirely a lie. The performance of some of Noah's history classmates has slipped and in PE Mr Hatchet has yelled at the bookworm many times he's probably taking a break from wasting his breath on him. Or so the latter one could be the case. Still, Noah knew there was something odd about his teacher's behaviour. Whatever it was, it should not be something to be ashamed of, especially not in Canada. But Noah, Cody and Eva go to a Catholic school, where every student has to take a class in religious education whether they like it or not. Besides, it's none of Noah's business. And despite his disdain for Mr Hatchet, he does have genuine respect for him, even if he would never admit it to him. But was Noah going to exploit it? Well, Noah figured he could use a break from getting the occasional write-out or detention he gets at least once every two or three weeks, so who was he to complain?

* * *

First class on a Monday morning was religious education. Despite being a Catholic school, virtually none of the students gave a crap about the subject. In fact, only about a few of the Catholic students enjoyed it, but this was mostly because they saw it as entertainment. Most of the students who regularly practiced Christianity did it at home anyway. The reason for the apathy (and the disdain among the devoted Christians) was because the school could only hire one teacher to teach religion to the students. Needless to say, she wasn't competent at it. Mrs O'Halloran was a right bitch.

Noah and Eva sat next to Duncan at the front of the class. Duncan always loved to push Mrs O'Halloran's buttons by writing pro-masturbation messages and instructions on how to get an abortion in his copybook, bringing in a crucifix just to gnaw on it when he gets bored and doodling penises on his desk. Eva had to sit up front because she's strongly pro-choice, pro-euthanasia, pro-death penalty and pro-gay marriage, and woe betide anyone who tries to get her to change her views (she was Christian, but there was no way she was going to let people tell her how to practice her religion, because she felt it was none of her business). Noah was just downright rude to hysterical people.

Mrs O'Halloran stormed into the room. "Alright class! Get your copies out! It's time to discuss why homosexuality is immoral!" she barked.

"Homosexuality is not immoral!" Harold raised his hand. "It's a perfectly natural evolutionary tool to prevent overpopulation! GOSH!"

"HAROLD!" O'Halloran yelled. "Get over here and sit next to Duncan where I can watch you! NOW!" With another "GOSH", Harold grabbed his things and sat next to Duncan. Duncan snickered to himself.

"Something funny, Duncan?!" O'Halloran demanded, glaring at Duncan.

"Nothing, miss," Duncan replied, winking at her.

Giving the delinquent the "I'm watching you" gesture, Mrs O'Halloran commanded everyone to open their religious textbooks. Not realising - or pretending to not realise - Duncan staring at her ass.

"Miss, this book is all lies!" Harold protested. "The person who wrote that book is an idiot! Only a mentally ill idiot who chooses to remain an idiot would believe that homosexuality is a choice or a mental illness!"

"HAROLD! Open your mouth one more time and you're going OUT THAT DOOR!" O'Halloran bellowed.

"You are clearly not qualified to be a teacher in a public school," Harold glared at O'Halloran. "Not to mention that Jesus Christ has never said anything about homosexuality. GOSH! Not only are you such an idiot, but you're also an infidel, Mrs O'Halloran!" The whole class erupted in laughter. O'Halloran was speechless.

"EVERYONE RIGHT OUT PAGES 663, 664 AND 665 FOR TOMORROW MORNING AND I WANT IT SIGNED BY YOUR PARENTS!" O'Halloran screamed.

"Na, Izzy wants to have sex with Mildred in the handicapped toilets," Izzy chirped. She jumped out of her seat, grabbed Mrs O'Halloran and dragged her out the door, ignoring O'Halloran's protests.

"FINALLY!" Jo, a student sitting behind Noah, groaned. "It's about time someone taught her some sex education. Lousy bitch-c***."

"Hopefully we could get a better teacher," Dawn sighed. "Religion is all about not being an asshole to others, and we need a teacher who can teach us that."

A minute later, Mr Hatchet walked in. "Right! I was called to fill in for Mrs O'Halloran. Can anyone tell me what topic she's covering?"

Bridgette raised her hand. "I don't think you're gonna like it any more than us, but Mrs O'Halloran is making up false claims about homosexuality," she explained.

Hatchet's ears pricked up. "What page?" he asked.

"663, sir."

Hatchet turned to the page and looked at it. Suddenly, you could see the red on his face, even form the back of the class. He was clearly angered from what he was reading. "We're not covering that," said Mr Hatchet, looking very stern. "Do some study or homework that you didn't get done at the weekend. Those of you who have me for history, this is a last chance to make sure you know your stuff."

As Noah proceeded to get out his history textbook, he noticed the look Eva was giving him. She now knows what's going on.

* * *

**The hints keep piling up, it seems. And to anyone who was wondering, I did go to a Catholic school and the staff were generally lovely. The non-Catholic students were exempt from the religion classes and nobody gave a shit about someone's religion or private lives as long as they weren't assholes. I'm just making Blaineley a 'religious' zealot to advance the plot. And what you've seen is just the tip of the iceberg.**

**Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

Noah and Eva read into their history textbooks where they sat. Duncan, who also had history with Mr Hatchet latter in the afternoon, just sat at his desk drawing doodles of religious figures in compromising positions into his religious textbook. Hatchet noticed that Duncan wasn't studying or finishing off homework he never got around to doing. It was obvious Duncan only picked history because the other subjects in that period were less appealing to the delinquent. He did care about history; he just never cared for doing exams on something he was never gonna get a job in. So Hatchet resigned to the fact that Duncan was going to fail his final history exam. But he was still bothered by the delinquent's laziness.

"Duncan!" Hatchet called. "Back of class. Now!" Duncan shrugged. He grabbed his things, sauntered to the back of the class and plopped down in an empty seat. If that delinquent was going to be lazy, Hatchet thought, there was no way he was going to be a distraction. This allowed Noah more breathing space to get some study done. Although Noah hadn't been quizzed in a week, Mr Hatchet can be very unpredictable in history class. One student was asked after having never been asked in three weeks, and had a write out a page from the textbook seven times when he gave the wrong answer. Needless to say, Noah found it amusing and laughed his ass off about it as soon as he got home.

History class came. Everybody was nervous as fuck. Well, everybody except for Harold, of course. Harold remained smug. He gets a write-out or a detention every day in history class. His fellow pupils made sure to sit as far away from him as possible. Even up at the front of the class, far away from Harold, Noah could still feel the arrogant vibes coming from the dweeb. Noah shrugged and waited for Mr Hatchet to come in and check his students' homework, and make sure all of the students had their test results signed by their parents. Hatchet came in, did just that, and went to his seat to start the next chapter of the book.

Ten minutes before the bell rang for the next class, Hatchet commanded his students to put away his books and commenced the quiz. Sky was asked first and answered correctly. Harold gasped loudly at this in shock. Hatchet gave him the write-out. Brick was asked second and answered correctly. Harold gasped loudly at this in shock again. Hatchet increased Harold's write-out. Zoey was asked next and also answered correctly.

"This can't be!" Harold finally snapped. "Those idiots were obviously cheating! GOSH!"

"Down to Brother McLean's office," Hatchet ordered. "NOW!"

"IDIOT!" Harold rasped, as he grabbed his bag and slithered out the door, muttering about what an idiot Mr Hatchet was. Nobody dared to laugh. Not even Duncan. The guy who routinely bullies Harold.

"Noah!" Hatchet barked, startling said bookworm. "From Finland's side of the Winter War, how many casualties in total were there?" Noah froze. He did study the Winter War last night, as was required. However, the casualties were broken down into several categories, such as deaths, wounds, missing persons, prisoners of war, civilian casualties and destroyed tanks and aircraft. Noah thought long hard enough to remember, but the tapping of Hatchet's fingers sent a signal that he was running out of time.

"26,000," Noah answered quickly.

Hatchet shook his head in disdain. "Write out page 557 twice for tomorrow," he ordered. "Take it down."

Noah shrugged and took down Hatchet's command into his homework journal. Was he shocked he got a write-out? No. It wasn't the first time that happened. Last time he got a write-out from Mr Hatchet, it was four weeks ago. He was still pretty pissed off. Maybe Hatchet realised that Noah would never make noise. Maybe the school doesn't care what teachers do with their personal lives, as long as they don't do anything illegal. But Noah was getting used to having Hatchet being paranoid over him. Maybe he still was. That still didn't change the fact that Noah was pissed. The fact that nobody else in the class other than Harold got a write-out didn't help. Noah does not like to be in a category alone with Harold. The bell rang before Hatchet could get a chance to quiz Duncan and Ezekiel.

* * *

History class was first the next day. Noah came in at around 8:17; 43 minutes before class commenced. Normally, the bus didn't arrive until 8:40, but Noah decided to get up early and get dropped off by his dad while the latter was on his way to work. Noah's breeder brother and sister-in-law and two bratty nieces were staying over, and Noah wanted to avoid them at all costs. Anyway, Noah came into school and walked up to his locker, where he saw Ezekiel standing nearby, picking his bellybutton and putting the contents in his mouth. Needless to say, there was more stuff in there than there was humanly possible.

"What are you doing?" Noah asked, fiddling with his padlock. He realised what he just said. "Actually, don't answer that. What is seen can't be unseen."

"So how does it feel to get a write-oot, Noah, eh?" Ezekiel chirped.

Noah's brow furrowed. "I get write-outs from Mr Hatchet as often as everyone else in the class," he deadpanned. "It's no big deal. I-" The bookworm froze. His eyes were as big as dinner plates. "Shit." The bookworm closed his locker, grabbed his bag and headed off towards the toilets.

"Where're yoo goin', eh?" Zeke asked.

"Somewhere to masturbate," Noah scoffed. "See ya in class." He darted off to the toilets and locked himself in one of the cubicles. He could not believe he forgot to do his write-out. Actually, he could. But the majority of the time Noah 'forgets' to do his homework, it was usually homework due for a class after lunch which he could get done during lunch. Or homework due for a class where Noah sits at a desk far from the teacher and far from Harold. But Noah knew very well what kind of teacher Mr Hatchet was like. Digging out his textbook, a copy and a pen from his bag, Noah scribbled every word from page 557 onto his copy twice. Fortunately, half the page was taken up by monochrome images of the Winter War, so Noah was able to get the write-out done in under half an hour. Having forged his father's signature from an earlier write-out he's received (this wasn't the first time he forged his dad's signature), Noah checked his watch. Class was in ten minutes. Remembering that he still had a locker to do, and the fact that Hatchet would murder anyone late for class, Noah shoved his books back in his bag and scurried back to his locker to exchange books. He made it to history class three minutes before the bell and plopped onto his seat.

Mr Hatchet entered the room. First thing he did was grab Noah's copy and inspect it. After a minute of two of analysis, Hatchet threw the copy on Noah's desk. "Think ya can play me for a fool, maggot?!" he shouted. Noah flinched. He did not respond. Hatchet continued.

"This write-out looks exactly like it was written at the last minute!" Hatchet snarled.

"Well DUH!" Harold rasped, butting in. "I saw Noah dart into one of the stalls in the lavatory like the idiot he is exactly 45 minutes, 33 seconds and 7 nanoseconds ago! IDIOT!"

"No, eh!" Ezekiel butted in. "Noah ran to the toilets, eh, to masturbate. Eh?"

"He was lying to you!" Harold snarled at Ezekiel. "GOSH! You're such an idiot, Ezekiel!"

"You can write out that page _three_ times by tomorrow morning!" Hatchet barked at Noah. "I want it handed in before the start of gym class! And I want it signed by your parents, with a note saying they are aware you've been given a write-out today and yesterday! GOT IT?!"

"Yes sir," Noah replied. His voice completely void of snark of any kind.

"If only his parents were not as illiterate as him," Harold scoffed. "Is it any wonder Noah's such an idiot? GOSH!"

"While we're on the topic of write-outs… McGrady! Do you have yours done?" Hatchet demanded.

"No," Harold stated, as if the answer was obvious. "I don't have time undertaking pointless exercises that waste time when I should be investing more time in saving humanity from anarchy by constantly reminding them what idiots they are! DUMBASS!"

Mr Hatchet stared at Harold. Emotions were fully absent from the muscular teacher's face. "I want everyone to go over what I've asked you to revise," He addressed the class. "I'll be quizzing yo maggots when I get back." He turned to Harold. "YOU! Come with me to Brother McLean's office. Get your things. NOW!"

"GOSH!" Harold scoffed as he packed his bag and followed Mr Hatchet down to the principal's office. Everybody figured that Harold was in for a beating by his normally saintly mother when he goes home this evening. But Noah could not care less about Harold. He was too busy worried about how his parents are going to react when they hear the news.

* * *

**It's been around a month since I last updated this. In fact, I have virtually disappeared from fan fiction for the most of October. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! Well, I suppose the word 'laziness' would be still in the cards. Thankfully, I've made up for it with a small writing streak. Well, I hope this will make up for my absence from most of my work in general.**

**Until next time!**


End file.
